In the Light of What We See

by Sarah Painter

  Later, Evie swooped past Grace on the ward, cheekily lifting the cover on a steaming bedpan and treating her to a stinking blast. ‘We’ll have a marvellous time,’ she said. ‘You’re only young once.’

  ‘I can’t be late back,’ Grace said, and Evie lifted her head, sensing a change in the wind. Grace expected her to say ‘Of course we won’t be late’, or something similar, but she just smiled beatifically and continued to the sluice. The set of her shoulders and the way she walked looked triumphant.

  ‘I didn’t say yes,’ Grace called after her. Sister chose that moment to appear and bellowed: ‘No shouting in the ward, Nurse. You aren’t in the Navy.’

  As they were getting ready for bed that night, both so tired they were knocking into one another and Grace was fumbling with the buttons on her dress and considering going to sleep fully clothed, Evie said, ‘Oh, go on. I promise it’ll be fun,’ and Grace found herself looking at the shape of Evie’s mouth and the light in her eyes that even exhaustion couldn’t fully extinguish. She intended to say ‘no’ again and probably would have, but Evie’s right shoulder lifted a fraction and the light that danced in her eyes seemed to flicker out for a single second. ‘All right, then,’ Grace found herself saying. ‘But you have to promise you won’t ditch me.’

  Evie smiled and she looked like a movie star once again. She silently crossed her heart and then touched two fingers to her lips and pressed them to Grace’s own.

  The next day, Grace was so nervous and distracted she dropped a thermometer and had to hide the glass pieces before Sister saw. Like the parting of the seas, miraculously both Grace and Evie were granted their off-duty and Evie even managed to wangle a late pass that would let them come in at quarter past the hour.

  Ever generous, Evie loaned her silk stockings and a fur capelet and when Grace looked down at herself she felt like a new person. She had already transformed her best dress by adding a couple of stitches to the darts above the waist and unpicking the fussy lace collar. Evie, of course, looked daringly chic in a white sequined number with a deep V at the back. She said it had been given to her by a viscount, but she had been smiling when she spoke and it was impossible to tell if she was teasing. Evie applied eyeliner and lipstick and made up Grace, telling her sharply to keep still and not to moan about the sharp point of the liner poking her eyelids. Grace wished that this part of the evening would never end.

  The boys were picking them up outside the home at seven. Evie’s airman had a motorcar he called ‘Bessie’, and a jawline pitted with acne scars. He had swarthy skin like a gypsy’s and eyes that were almost black. Evie had described him as ‘beautiful’, but he seemed far too male for that word. Grace didn’t want to stand near him, but he slung an arm around her shoulders and said to his friend, ‘I told you the nurses in this town were the best.’ Grace stepped away but he just laughed and offered her a cigarette. His friend was called Thomas and once they were loaded into the back of the car together he turned to Grace and introduced himself formally, which Grace found rather nice.

  ‘Don’t mind Old Thomas, he’s not as dull as he appears,’ the airman yelled over his shoulder.

  Evie was snuggled against his shoulder, leaning in as he handled the steering wheel, and Grace tried not to think about the chances of them all dying in a fiery accident.

  ‘Don’t mind Robert,’ Thomas said, imitating the airman. ‘He’s not as brash as he appears. Well, actually he is, but he’s not so bad underneath it all.’ He smiled at Grace in a way that suggested she was in on a private joke. Grace was too nervous to smile back, but she managed to glance at him, taking in the impression of light brown hair and neat ears.

  The door to the town hall opened, letting out a blast of warm air and music. Inside, the hall was decorated with paper streamers and the floor was filled with couples dancing. The boys went to fetch drinks from the punch table and Evie turned to Grace. ‘What do you think? Do you like him?’

  ‘Too soon to say.’ Grace was hoping she sounded bored and worldly, rather than stiff and ungrateful.

  Evie laughed. ‘That’s my Grace, so cautious. I always know right away.’ She clicked her fingers.

  ‘Really?’ Grace said, mainly to keep her talking.

  ‘Oh, yes. If the spark isn’t there straight away, there’s no point.’

  ‘And you’re feeling sparky about your airman, I take it?’

  Evie lowered her eyelids and smiled in a sleepy, sexy way. ‘Maybe.’

  Then she stopped vamping and gripped Grace’s arm. ‘They’re coming back! Quick, is my face all right?’

  ‘Of course.’ Grace was thrown by the change in Evie’s manner. She was so outwardly confident, her surface so bright and sparkling, that her flashes of insecurity made Grace’s heart hurt.

  ‘Laugh,’ Evie said. ‘Men like girls who are fun.’

  Grace didn’t see how laughing at nothing would show that they were fun, but she forced a smile anyway. It was difficult to maintain as Evie’s fingers were digging into her upper arm quite painfully. Grace felt it turn into a grimace.

  ‘Refresh yourselves, ladies,’ said Robert, passing out cups. The band changed tune and he held out one hand to Evie. ‘Shall we?’

  She took a long sip of her punch and then gave the cup to Grace. She put her hand into Robert’s and they took to the floor.

  Thomas held out a paper cup to Grace and she took it with her spare hand. There was a moment of awkward silence. Grace held out Evie’s drink. ‘You don’t have one.’

  He took the cup and put it down on the window ledge behind them. ‘I don’t drink,’ he said. ‘Don’t remind Robert, please.’ And he gave her another of those sweet, conspiratorial smiles. He really did have a nice face. Open and honest like a farm boy’s.

  He leaned against the wall and dug out a pack of cigarettes from his trouser pocket and offered one to Grace.

  ‘Please,’ she said, and joined him against the wall. The silence felt companionable now that they were smoking together, now that Grace had the comforting routine of inhaling and exhaling and tapping ash to occupy her. It was loud anyway, not good for chit-chat. She watched the couples whirling around the floor and pretended that she was a normal girl out for a night out with a handsome man and her glamorous friend and that all was well with the world.

  He leaned in to speak into her ear. It tickled and was faintly moist. ‘How do you like the hospital, then? Bet they work you hard.’

  Grace shrugged and smiled. She didn’t want to lean in and shout into his ear.

  After a while, their cigarettes finished and stubbed out, he took her hand and led her on to the dance floor. ‘May as well,’ he yelled. ‘Since we’re here.’

  Grace didn’t let herself think about whether she wanted to dance, didn’t let herself panic at the thought of his hands on her waist, her shoulder. She shut that Grace Kemp in a box and let a different one out to play. Grace, the girl who was fun. Grace the dancing girl. With her handsome airman and the music playing.

  Later Grace was glad Evie had shown her the dances. She’d managed a foxtrot and a waltz without incident. She’d drunk some lemonade and smoked another of Thomas’s cigarettes. The whirling figures in the dusty hall had become, if not familiar, then less shocking.

  When the band took a break, she sat with Thomas at a table overflowing with paper cups and found that he was just as pleasant a conversationalist as he was a dancer.

  ‘Do you like your work?’ he asked. Earnestly, as if he truly cared about her feelings.

  Grace had been going to nod and say something bland about helping others. Instead she found herself being honest: ‘I don’t have enough time to read,’ she said. ‘Not as much as I would like. And my shifts often stop me from getting to the library.’

  ‘I miss my books,’ he said, leaning forwards slightly. ‘I carry a few with me, but it’s not the same.’

  Full of good feeling and excitement, Grace almost lost her dinner when she caught sight of the time. Evie had promised!
Grace explained to Thomas that she had to leave and that she couldn’t go without Evie. She found her sitting with Robert next to one of the little round tables. There were several cups on the table and they were all empty.

  ‘It’s almost quarter to,’ Grace said, feeling the panic rising as she spoke.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ Evie said, loudly. Her cheeks were flushed and her perfect finger waves were beginning to flatten out; stray hairs had stuck to her flushed face.

  ‘We’re going to be late,’ Grace said. ‘I can’t be late. I can’t.’

  Evie leaned across her airman and spoke quietly. ‘Will you just relax? This isn’t—’

  ‘You promised.’ Grace leaned across to face her, suddenly not even caring how close her body came to Robert’s. He was leaning back, an amused expression on his dark face.

  ‘Hey, if you need to get back, I can take you,’ Thomas said, moving out from behind her. He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels.

  Grace looked at Evie, willing her eyes to convey everything she couldn’t say out loud. Please don’t leave me alone with a man. Even this man, with his farm boy’s face. Please.

  Evie must’ve seen something because she rose to her feet. ‘Darling.’ She held a hand out to Robert. ‘Would you be a dear and run us home?’

  ‘But it’s early.’ Robert was not impressed by the turn his evening was taking. He’d been drinking, too. Grace hoped Thomas was going to drive this time.

  The air was cold now, and their breath fogged in it. Robert lit a cigarette and sucked it moodily as they walked to the car.

  ‘Poor show, Evie,’ he said.

  ‘Why don’t you love birds sit in the back?’ Thomas said. ‘I’ll drive and you can say a proper goodnight to each other.’

  Robert brightened instantly and opened the door for Evie.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Thomas said, as he slid into the driver’s seat. ‘We will be having a deep intellectual discussion and we shan’t hear a thing.’ He winked at Grace and, in her gratitude, she put a hand on his arm and squeezed.

  However, the damage was already done. Thomas was a steady driver and they’d left the dance hall too late. There was no way they were going to make their specially extended curfew of quarter past ten. Grace checked her watch and saw that it was already almost twenty past and they were only at the bottom of the hill that led to the hospital.

  Once the Morris Oxford had hauled up the slope, Grace asked Thomas to stop at the end of the road. She didn’t want the night porter to see them getting out of a man’s car.

  ‘One second,’ Evie said, still entangled with Robert.

  ‘Now,’ Grace said. Anxiety stripped her nerves and the word came out harshly.

  ‘You’d better go or your friend will never let you see me again,’ Robert said. He was smiling at Grace but there was no warmth in it.

  ‘You girls run along now.’ A challenge. There was something lupine and unpleasant about Robert. Grace didn’t understand how Evie could be besotted with so odious a specimen. Of course, she hadn’t always been the best judge of character herself.

  Evie kissed him one last time and then swung her legs out of the car and pushed herself upright with one elegant movement. She spoiled it slightly by stumbling. Grace caught her and Evie leaned against her, surprisingly heavily.

  Grace began walking along the pavement, half supporting her. ‘You’re going to have to sober up, sharpish.’

  ‘You’re mean tonight,’ Evie said. She was pouting, trying to defuse things, but Grace felt fury wash over her.

  ‘You promised we wouldn’t be late and we are. If we get into more trouble because you’ve been drinking, I will never forgive you. Never.’

  Evie was quiet for a few steps. Then, as they came in sight of the nurses’ home and the night porter’s cabin, a miracle occurred. Evie straightened up. Her arm was now linked with Grace’s in a girlish manner, not in a leaning-on-her way.

  The moon had slid out from behind the clouds and was shining mercilessly down as they walked up the driveway.

  ‘We should go through the window,’ Evie said, quietly.

  ‘Too risky.’ Grace had thought about it but, having obtained a late pass, the chance that the porter would remember them and be looking out for them was too great. If they didn’t come back at all, the alarm might be raised. Grace had pictured sirens and searchlights, as if the home were a prison, the police running down cobbled streets waving batons, her imagination supplying the worst possible scenario with agonising ease.

  The porter was a man called Miller. The same man who’d given them the late pass which, at least, confirmed that she’d been wise not to try climbing through the window. Miller was all right, too. Not as miserable as his colleague.

  ‘What time do you call this?’ Miller stepped out of his cabin, giving Grace a shock. He looked furious. ‘I trusted you, Nurse, and look what you’ve done with it. Thrown it back in me face.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Grace said. She nudged Evie until she said ‘sorry’, too.

  ‘It was the bus. It was late.’

  ‘My backside it was,’ Miller said. ‘How come three girls just managed to hit the curfew, then? They got the bus all right.’

  ‘It was a bit late, but Evie’s hurt her ankle. We couldn’t walk very quickly and she had to have a little rest.’ The words were tumbling out now. She felt herself shift back to the old Grace. The one who could weave a story. The Grace who had spun tales to charm her father and his friends, making them laugh and call her a ‘funny thing’, back before things had gone wrong. She thought she’d buried that girl, but there she was. Waiting just under the surface. Grace could feel Evie shifting next to her; hoped she was shifting her stance to favour one leg, to look subservient and in pain. People in power liked that.

  ‘We’re sorry,’ Evie said, her voice small. ‘My ankle really is very sore.’

  ‘Well . . .’ Miller said. His voice was still gruff but Grace knew they were going to get away with it. She felt elated and she felt sick.

  ‘Go on inside, girls. I’ll let it go this time, but don’t let me catch you out past curfew again.’

  In their room, Evie was all admiration. ‘Coo! I had no idea you had it in you, Gracie girl.’

  ‘Lying?’ Grace said. ‘I’m not proud of it.’ She was shaken. She knew that she was going to have to work harder to bury the old Grace, otherwise she’d rise up and ruin everything.

  ‘Oh, don’t be such a stick in the mud,’ Evie said. ‘You were wonderful. You could go on the stage.’

  Grace was in no mood to be teased. ‘I did what I had to do. You broke your word.’

  ‘If I’d known you’d be such a bore about it, I wouldn’t have bothered,’ Evie said, finally. She collapsed on to her bed and, shortly afterwards, began to snore lightly.

  MINA

  I was asleep when I heard Pat’s voice. It was a warbling sound, running up and down scales like an operatic thrush, the way it did when she was angry, and it pulled me out of my dreams with a violent tug. Instantly awake, I blinked furiously to clear the stickiness from my eyes and looked over to the doorway. It was light and bright in the ward with the sun streaming through the windows and I blinked again, trying to prepare myself. Pat’s voice always went up an octave in pitch and at least a class in accent when she was angry. You could gauge the severity of the situation by her diction and, right now, she sounded like the Queen.

  And there she was, framed momentarily in the entrance, her solid, rectangular body emphasised by her bulky coat and habit of clasping her handbag in front of her. The sight of Pat – here in this place – was surreal. And, to make matters worse, there was a siskin on her shoulder.

  I struggled to sit up, feeling at a distinct disadvantage, but thanking God Mark had brought in a nightie so that I wasn’t wearing a hospital gown. Yes, it was a vile peach item with a rosebud at the neck, more suited to my grandmother, but it was preferable to the sickly institutional green hospital issue. I had never
realised how many choices I’d had until they were taken away.

  I was barely vertical and my head was swimming dangerously when Pat reached the bed. She bent down and treated me to one of her brief, hard hugs.

  Then she sat in the chair and dropped her handbag on the bed. ‘I’m not putting it on that floor,’ she said. ‘It’s probably filthy.’

  I shushed her, feeling awkward in case one of the staff heard.

  ‘Well,’ Pat said, then she lapsed into silence, glaring around at the ward and not meeting my eye.

  I waited, not saying anything either.

  Pat sat with her back ramrod straight. She shook her head, lips compressed into a line as if she was keeping the words behind them locked up. Then, when I thought she might sit through the entire visit like that, she said a typical Pat thing. ‘What did you do?’

  I thought about turning my face to the wall. I thought about lying back down and closing my eyes until she left. But she was my family. The closest thing I had to a mother and, despite everything, she had travelled hours to check on me. Travelled to England, of all places.

  However much I hadn’t wanted her to come here; however much I kept my family in Wales firmly in place, and however straight and thin the line of Pat’s mouth, I knew something in the secret place of my heart. I was glad to see her.

  ‘I was in a car accident,’ I said. My voice sounded croaky so I cleared it before adding, ‘I don’t remember anything.’

  ‘So, how do you know?’ Pat said.

  I wasn’t sure if she meant: how did I know I’d been in an accident, or how was I sure it had been an accident, that it wasn’t my fault somehow? It wasn’t something I particularly liked to think about so I just said: ‘They told me.’

  Pat’s hair was up in a bun as always but her usually frizzy grey fringe was sleek and well tended. I imagined her getting up early and taking extra care with it, and felt prickles along my scalp. ‘How did you know?’ I said. ‘That I was here.’

  Pat’s eyes narrowed to slits. ‘Your boyfriend rang. Nice of you to tell us about him, by the way. Lovely for your family to find out like that.’